


On Pins and Needles

by PhenixFleur



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Established Relationship, Human Bill Cipher, Just because he's a sadistic isosceles monster doesn't mean he can't be a good boyfriend, M/M, Mabel's gonna be mad when she realizes what happened to her sewing pins, Mild Needleplay, Mild Painplay, Okay it's not exactly mild, Older Dipper Pines, Smut for no good reason, because this shit doesn't work with triangle Bill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 09:01:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3523385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhenixFleur/pseuds/PhenixFleur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dipper walks in on his stupid demon boyfriend indulging himself in a rather interesting manner. Bill decides to introduce him to his hobby. Dipper very quickly becomes okay with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Pins and Needles

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to try my hand at writing smut. This happened. It's weird. Aged up/adult Dipper, established relationship. Bill may be a homicidal maniac, but he's not a cradle robber. Even dream demons have standards. :P

The moment Dipper entered his room, nose buried deep in an unassuming book about practical uses for archaic occult rituals that had a few questionable stains on some of the pages (Bill didn't always leave teeth or animal parts on his bed, but that didn't mean his arbitrary gifts were  _normal_ ), he knew he could save himself a lot of trouble by just turning around and walking away. 

Sometimes he made really stupid decisions.

He liked to think that engaging in a committed, sometimes frighteningly intense yet loving relationship with an occasionally homicidal dream demon wasn't necessarily a  _stupid_  decision, but there were times. 

This was, potentially, one of those times.

Bill was seated on his bed facing the door, suit jacket lying in a heap on the floor next to it. Dipper didn't ask  _why_  he was there; that wasn't too abnormal of an occurrence given that he didn't officially live at the Mystery Shack as of yet -- convincing Stan that allowing Bill to live there on a more permanent basis was a work in progress. What was abnormal was the array of sewing pins spread out on the blanket in front of him, as well as the handful embedded in his forearm. 

Physical shell or not, the deep flush of arousal coloring his face was _very_  human.

The moment Dipper walked in his head shot up, and his eye glittered sharply, tongue darting out to lick his lips in an absolutely pornographic manner. 

_That_  was the moment he should have dropped the book, backed out of the room slowly, and found somewhere else to be.

"I don't even need to point out how weird this is," he said slowly, with an incredible amount of restraint. "And creepy. Weird and creepy. And why are you doing it on my bed?"

"Why not?" The demon's voice was smooth, slick as ever, with an undertone of lust he made no attempt to disguise. "It's my favorite place in the world. Especially when you're in it."

That time Dipper did drop the book, hands instinctively flying up to cover his face as it went bright red. He heard Bill laugh. "What's wrong? It's true!"

"Whatever." Dipper leaned down to retrieve his book, still blushing furiously. He still wasn't used to how salacious the demon could be when the mood hit. "How many of those things have you used, anyway?"

"Ten? Somewhere between ten and thirty-five? I lost count."

Against his better judgment Dipper made his way over to the bed, careful to brush the sewing pins aside before sitting beside him. Up close the sight was both gruesome and fascinating. It faintly reminded him of acupuncture, the way the sewing pins protruded from the cacao-hued skin, just deep enough to pierce the skin but not enough to send the thin rivulets of crimson liquid dripping down his arm. "I know you've got that being of pure energy with no weaknesses thing going on but doesn't that hurt?"

Bill's response was to select one of the pins carefully by the green ball and slip it slowly into the crook on the other side of his left elbow, gaze locked with Dipper's the entire time. "Of course it does! Why else would I be doing it?" He shuddered, pupil blowing in ecstasy for a few seconds. "Of all the sensations the human body is capable of feeling, pain is probably the most exhilarating." 

Dipper swallowed, unable to tear his eyes away from the wanton display going on in front of him. "There's...there's a name for that."

"Well aware of it," the demon responded flippantly, examining his handiwork with something that resembled pride. "I know  _everything_." His voice shifted into the otherworldly echo he reserved for when he was attempting to intimidate someone. Dipper wasn't intimidated. 

"Why pain?" He pressed on. "Usually people use it as negative reinforcement. Most people." His eyes roamed over the sight of Bill's arm again; he sighed. "I don't know how to have this conversation."

Bill rolled his eyes. Eye? Eye. "Humans. You meatbags take so much for granted. You've never been without sensation, so you don't properly appreciate the ability to feel. So ungrateful." 

"I guess you have a point," Dipper conceded, lying back on his bed and staring up at the ceiling. "I've never really thought about it before. It's just sort of a given."

The tense silence that followed made him sit up, slightly alarmed. Silence wasn't Bill's thing. The sight that greeted him was both unnerving _and_ just a little enticing; Bill was staring at him intently. "I think I can help you remedy that," he  _purred_ , and at that point Dipper realized his mistake. 

"You know, I just remembered I had to do a thing somewhere else that isn't here," he stammered, attempting to slide off the bed and head for the hills. His reflexes failed him; with one quick movement the demon threw a leg over him, straddling his midsection and pinning him to the bed. "It can wait. Also you're lying." 

"How do you know?" Dipper protested; he groaned as the demon rapped lightly against his own skull with a wink. "I hate it when you do that."

"Only when you're  _bad_ ," his stupid demon boyfriend crooned in his ear, warm breath tickling the skin just below his earlobe and something warm and wet flickered against his neck. Suddenly part of him was just a little interested in what Bill was offering, but the part that didn't want to end up a pincushion was a little less enthusiastic. 

Apparently sensing his apprehension, Bill pulled back, gazing down at him with adoration. "Don't worry. I know your pain tolerance is lacking. I'd never break you beyond repair." 

Dipper stared back, searching his features for the truth of the statement that he instinctively knew was there. The world at large may have had reason to worry about a being like Bill running rampant but he knew he didn't. He nodded, a faint dip of his head serving as both acknowledgment and encouragement.

With a wide grin that lit up his entire face and revealed his razor sharp teeth, the demon carefully selected another sewing pin, this one bearing a blue tip that reminded Dipper of his signature cap. He poked the pin between his lips while shifting to hold Dipper's wrists above his head with one hand and stroking the pale flesh of his right forearm with the other. "Try to breathe normally, Pine Tree."

Dipper nodded again, shakily -- then hissed through his teeth sharply at the sting of the needle parting his skin. "Ah!"

His cry of dismay was cut short by the demon capturing his lips with his own, tongue slipping between them to flicker against the roof of his mouth. The pleasant sensation contrasted ever so sharply against the needle's bite, leaving him lightheaded. When Bill finally let him up for air he gasped, breathing heavily. "Fuck, Bill, that hurts!"

"That's the point!" The demon said cheerfully. "Get it?" 

"Puns?" Dipper glared at him. "Seriously? That's the lowest form of humor."

Bill shrugged. "Never seemed to kill the mood before." He reached over to select another pin. "Try to concentrate, Dipper. Don't block it out."

The pin teased his skin for a brief moment before Bill began to slide it just beneath the surface, in a slow, tantalizing manner; with both hands occupied and his mouth currently engaged in potentially leaving a hickey on the side of his neck where Mabel would see it later and refuse to let it go for days there wasn't much to be done about the part of him that now  _very_  interested in what was going on. As if reading his thoughts again (hell, the bastard probably was) the demon shifted atop him, pressing his knee against Dipper's crotch and sending a wave of gingery heat flowing into the pit of his stomach. 

This time he keened in mounting need, moving to grind against the knee between his legs -- followed by an actual moan as another pin joined the other two. Through the haze of pleasure spread throughout his body in juxtaposition to the acute sting of the sewing pins lodged in his forearm, he could hear Bill's voice, although he couldn't imagine how given that his mouth had moved on past his neck to grip his shirt with his teeth and lifting it enough to gain access to his chest. "Do you feel it? That sharp prick of entry, the tip sliding through the top layers of flesh, that stabbing sensation as it probes further inside you?"

Whatever response Dipper might have given was lost the moment he felt teeth graze against his nipple, a warm wet tongue swirling over the pointed nub before lightly biting down, hard enough to hurt but it was a  _good_  hurt, a hurt that drew his voice out in a loud wail that he dimly hoped wouldn't be heard elsewhere in the Shack but it really was too late to care about that now. Another pin slipped beneath his skin, forming a net of pain spread between several points like a constellation, and he moaned again, arching against Bill's knee. At this point he couldn't tell whether it hurt or whether it didn't -- it all felt the same, and that same was  _amazing_. 

Cool air took the place of the warm mouth against his chest, and he looked up through eyes blurred with inexplicable tears at Bill. The demon was watching him intently, his visible eye gleaming a mesmerizing, intense shade of gold. "You're beautiful like this," he whispered, in that voice stripped of pretense, raw and vulnerable and reserved for Dipper and Dipper alone; Dipper's heart seemed to glow in his chest, warming him from within. "You get it now? Pain and pleasure are two sides of the same coin."

Dipper couldn't remember how to make words, so he didn't.

A flash of metal, shining between the demon's fingers. "Shall I stop?"

Dipper very quickly remembered how to make words. "God  _no_." 

The perverted leer that spread across Bill's face was far more of a turn on than it should have been. As the demon gave credence to the word and went about practically shredding his clothes to get to the treat inside, Dipper briefly toyed with the idea of freaking Mabel out by informing her of his newly developed touch of masochism. 

Bill really was a bad influence. Too bad he liked it. 


End file.
